Creatures of the Night
by Sand-wolf579
Summary: Dakota had been partners with a vampire for fifty years. He had thought that he had a pretty good idea of what it meant to live in a world with monsters and dark creatures. After being attacked by a werewolf though, he realized just how little he knew about actually being a part of that world.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I've seen the au idea floating around on tumblr where Cavendish is a vampire and Dakota is a werewolf. I absolutely loved the idea, and decided to write my own little story about it. Because this _is_ a story about werewolves and vampires, there will be violence and blood in this. That's just kind of the nature of vampire and werewolf stories.**

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Dakota groaned and rolled over, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. The room was pitch black, and there wasn't any clocks lying around, so he had no idea what time it was. By how exhausted he felt though, Dakota could tell that it was way too early for him to be awake. This was really weird though, because Dakota wasn't usually the type of person who just woke up for no reason. The only reason that he would be awake was if he had heard something that might mean danger...oh.

Dakota groaned again and sat up. He really didn't want to be awake right then, and the bed just felt so welcoming, but he had a job to do. If someone had told Dakota fifty years ago just how often he would have to break his sleeping pattern to keep Cavendish's undead neck safe, he wouldn't have believed them. After all, Cavendish was a vampire, and just how many idiots out there thought that it was a good idea to go after a vampire?

Apparently a lot.

Dakota dragged himself out of bed and reached for his sunglasses. After nearly half a century of being out almost solely during the night, Dakota had developed a bit of a sensitivity to light. It wouldn't turn him to dust like it would Cavendish, but it just felt so unnaturally bright to Dakota.

Cavendish muttered in his sleep and frowned discontentedly. Cavendish was an even sounder sleeper than Dakota was, but he could also be a restless sleeper if he wasn't completely comfortable. Cavendish despised the stereotype of vampires sleeping in coffins, but he _did_ feel more comfortable resting if he was completely secure. This was why the two of them had been sharing a bed with each other for nearly forty years, because Dakota had a tendency to cuddle when he slept, and Cavendish liked the security.

Of course, if Dakota had to go and make sure that things were safe, he couldn't exactly cuddle with Cavendish that day. The best thing he could do was grab a thick, heavy blanket and throw it on top of Cavendish to make him more comfortable.

That done, Dakota grabbed the heavy metal bat that he kept under the bed. Cavendish had complained many times about him using such a 'barbaric' weapon, but since Dakota was the only one who would actually be _using_ the weapon, he thought it would be best to go for something that he actually knew how to use. If he just went for a crossbow like Cavendish always seemed to hint at, then he would probably end up shooting himself with it more than the intruder.

Besides, as simple as a bat may be, it got the job done, and it was freaking durable. There were a couple of solid dents in the bat from when he had used it on previous potential attackers, but it still worked just fine, and Dakota knew that his weapon of choice would be able to hold out for quite some time.

Dakota wondered just what kind of joker he would be dealing with this time. A number of different people seemed to think that it was a good idea to sneak into a vampire's home while he slept. From experience, Dakota could narrow down who he was up against to somebody from one of three categories. A vampire hunter, another monster, or a kid who had been dared by his friends. Considering Dakota didn't even have to try to be able to hear the intruder moving around, and they hadn't found the hidden bedroom that Cavendish had added when he found that his home didn't have a single room that didn't let any light in whatsoever during the day, Dakota knew that he wasn't dealing with a professional here.

So, it was either a monster or a kid. _Now_ Dakota was getting excited, because those were the funnest kinds of intruders to scare/fight off. He just needed to know what kind of person he was dealing with to know the best method to go about getting rid of them.

Dakota snuck out of the room completely dark room and made his way down the secret passage that led back to the original part of the house. After listening carefully through the hidden door and deciding that the stranger wasn't in this particular room, Dakota eased the door open and slipped out. He made sure to close it behind him, making it look like an ordinary bookcase (Cavendish wasn't very original). Dakota had made the mistake once of leaving the passage open, and Cavendish _still_ hadn't stopped nagging him about it.

That was how Dakota had learned that immortal vampires could hold grudges for a _very_ long time.

Dakota snuck awkwardly through the house, looking for their unwelcomed guest. He knew that he probably looked like an idiot, but being quiet really wasn't his strong suit. He couldn't move around as though he was walking around air like Cavendish could. If Dakota wanted to move quietly, it was slow and awkward work.

Fortunately, he didn't have to do it for very long.

Dakota soon found the intruder looking around the study. The guy looked a little too old to be somebody who would let their friends dare them to explore a supposably haunted house, but he also looked too human to be most monsters.

The guy was also _acting_ weird. He kept on sniffling his nose, so either he had a really bad cold, or he was smelling for something. It almost looked like he was looking with his _nose_ instead of with his _eyes,_ but that was stupid. What kind of person would look for something or somebody else by _sniffing_ for them like some kind of...dog

... _Oh._

"You've gotta be kidding me." Dakota said without thinking, unintentionally announcing his presence. The intruder spun around with lightning quick reflexes, and, yeah, Dakota could see it now. He looked like an ordinary Joe from off the street, except his eyes were so wide and bloodshot that Dakota was almost surprised that they hadn't popped right out of his head. It almost looked like he was just coming down from a really bad high. The stranger's hair was tangled and had a couple of twigs in it. His clothes were in pretty bad shape too, all ripped, stretched, and slightly bloody.

With all those signs put together, it was glaringly obvious just what this guy was. That didn't make Dakota feel any less annoyed about it though.

"What is with you fleabags?" Dakota asked as he adjusted his grip on his bat. "Haven't you guys learned yet that when it's vampires vs. werewolves, vampires always win?" And that was _with_ the werewolf in wolf form.

"It would be difficult for the vampire to defend himself during the day." The werewolf smirked and Dakota could still see that his teeth were sharper than was normal for a human. It always took a day or two for the werewolf's hold to fully let go of the human, and considering the full moon had just been the night before, it really wasn't all that surprising that this guy still had some wolfish traits.

It also explained what the guy was doing here in the first place. Werewolves were territorial creatures, and it wasn't all that uncommon for a werewolf to go after Cavendish the afternoon after the full moon. They always seemed to strike around noon, when the sun was at it's highest point in the sky and Cavendish was at his weakest.

What everybody seemed to forget was that vampires didn't just have partners so they could have an on hand supply of blood at their disposal.

"Just try it, mutt." Dakota bent his legs and got into a fight ready position. It was a good thing that he did, because the second that the werewolf had heard the word 'mutt' (they hated those kinds of nicknames), it pounced at him.

Dakota easily dodged the attack and he immediately countered with a sharp swing of his bat across the guy's back. This would send any normal human sprawling to the ground, but his opponent barely staggered. He was a _lot_ more wolfish than Dakota had originally thought.

 _This_ was going to be interesting.

The werewolf, Dakota decided to call him Fluffy, snarled and immediately went to strike again. Dakota, once again, dodged the attack, but when he moved in to hit him with his bat again Fluffy grabbed the bat mid swing. He had learned the lesson from Dakota's first attack.

Dakota didn't know exactly who this guy was, all he knew was that he was a werewolf. He wasn't _just_ a werewolf though. He was a smart werewolf. He wasn't just a wolfish ravenous beast, and he wasn't a superstitious mortal. At that moment, Fluffy was the perfect combination of the two, with the fearlessness and strength of the wolf, and the intelligence and craftiness of man.

Truly, Fluffy was the perfect example of the worst of both worlds, and there was no way that Dakota was going to let this guy get to Cavendish.

The two fought for a few minutes without it being clear who had the advantage for this fight. Normally, it would be the werewolf, hands down, except while there were certainly advantages to having the soul of a werewolf in the body of a human, there were downsides too. Fluffy may be stronger than a normal mortal, but his body was still human, and it just didn't know how to adjust to all of that extra strength.

This caused Fluffy to grow frustrated, which just made him more reckless. With every hit he tried, none of them causing more than minor scratches for Dakota, Fluffy became more and more angry. It wasn't long before he started growling.

Dakota should have recognized that growling as a sign telling him to end the fight soon. Animals had a tendency to growl as a warning when they were getting ready to strike. Humans attacked with their fists, but many animals, including wolves, had the tendency to attack with their _teeth._

" _Gah!"_ Dakota cried out in pain when Fluffy grabbed his arm and sunk his teeth into it...well, not _sunk_ , because that implied that it was a quick puncture. It wasn't. Fluffy may be wolfish, but he was still a man, and even with sharper than average teeth, human beings' teeth just weren't made for penetrating human skin. Fluffy managed it though, because he was a determined fella.

The thing was, so was Dakota.

Still in pain from the dull bite, Dakota dropped the bat and just decided to do things the old fashioned way. With his fist.

Dakota punched Fluffy right in the nose, which caused him to stumble back (Dakota barely managed to not scream in pain and disgust when some of his skin got torn away when the werewolf fell back). Fluffy ended up hitting his head on the desk, which knocked him out cold.

Thank goodness for that too, because Dakota didn't think he could handle much more of a showdown. Even though it was his job as Cavendish's partner to provide protection for him during the day, Dakota wasn't the most physically fit person. He could hit hard, and he was pretty good at avoiding hits himself, but his endurance was lacking...a lot. So he wouldn't have been able to hold out in the fight for more than just a few more minutes.

And that was saying nothing of the bite.

Dakota grimaced when he got a good look at the wound. Fluffy had broken through the skin, and even though it wasn't bleeding very much, it still hurt a lot. What was _really_ concerning to Dakota though was that he knew that even though most people only became werewolves if they were bitten while the creature was in their wolfish monster form, there were exceptions.

In most cases, bites from an unturned werewolf would just cause the victim vaguely wolfish side-effects. They would suddenly prefer their meat undercooked. They would find a fascination with the moon, especially when it was full. Just little things like that.

Dakota, however, wasn't most cases.

There were a couple of ways that people who were bitten when the full moon wasn't out could still turn into full fledged werewolves. One of the ways, and the only one that really concerned Dakota, was when the victim got vampire venom in their blood. Dakota didn't entirely understand why, but something about the venom completed the transformation. Maybe it had something to do with the natural rivalry between vampire and werewolf.

Whatever the reason, this wasn't good news for Dakota, who was bitten by Cavendish on a bi-weekly basis. It was the only way for Cavendish to get blood, unless he wanted to go out and find another source, and Dakota knew how much he hated doing that.

Dakota was extremely concerned, and he just didn't know what he was going to do. He had been a part of the darker aspect of the world, complete with monsters and magic, for fifty years, but he still felt apart from it. Dakota had thought that he had seen it all, but he hadn't actually experienced very much of it. But now he was being thrown headfirst into the action, and he wasn't ready. It felt like he had been watching a sport (he wasn't an athletic guy and wasn't entirely sure which sport specifically, but he was sticking to his analogy), and now he was being thrown into the game without warning or fully understanding what the rules were.

Dakota felt his legs beginning to shake and he had to sit down. He didn't know whether it was because the adrenalin from the short fight with Fluffy had left him, or if werewolf bites drained energy (it was a possibility), or if he was just so overwhelmed by the situation. Whatever the reason, his legs just decided that they weren't going to hold him up anymore.

That was fine. Dakota didn't really need to be on his feet anyways.

Dakota leaned back against the nearby wall and tried to catch his breath. It had been a while since he had felt this tired after a fight with an intruder, and he could use a break. Dakota really wanted to return to bed and get some more sleep, but he couldn't do that while Fluffy was still around. Dakota knew that he should get Fluffy out of there before either he or Cavendish woke up, but Dakota just felt so tired. He didn't have the energy to stand on his own two feet, let alone drag somebody else out.

Besides, because of the bite, Dakota's left arm felt like it was on fire and yet numb at the same time. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, and Dakota knew that that arm would be all but useless while the injury was still fresh, and there was no way that he would be able to drag Fluffy anywhere with just one hand, let alone all the way out of the house.

The best that Dakota could do at the moment was to just sit there and keep an eye on Fluffy, just in case he woke up. Cavendish would be awake around nightfall. Dakota could keep an eye on an unturned werewolf for a few hours. No problem.

Just...just as soon as he rested his eyes for a few minutes.

-kota...Dakota!" Dakota groaned as he slowly woke up...wait, _woke up?_ When had he fallen asleep? Dakota's eyes snapped open to see Cavendish kneeling in front of him, a scolding and yet concerned look on his face. "What are you doing out here?"

"I...there was an intruder." Dakota stretched slightly (sleeping on the floor really left him feeling sore,). He couldn't hold back a cry of pain though when he moved his arm the wrong way, which irritated his injury. Cavendish's eyes flashed dangerously as he eyed Dakota's still bleeding bite wound.

"What did he do?" Cavendish's voice was low and angry. Dakota shuddered slightly. Cavendish didn't get angry very often, but when he did it was _scary._

"Uh...who?" Dakota still felt half asleep.

"Our _guest."_ Cavendish glared behind him. Dakota leaned forward to see that Fluffy was still there. Like Cavendish, he was also awake, but Fluffy was tied up and gagged. So Cavendish had woken up before Fluffy. Well, that was fortunate. "He didn't cause too much trouble, did he?"

"Nope." Dakota said immediately. _Lie_. "Seriously, he just did these little cuts." Another _lie,_ but Cavendish didn't need to know that. As far as Cavendish needed to know, these were no worse than regular cuts. Dakota was just glad that Fluffy's teeth were so irregular, because the bite mark barely resembled one at all.

"Little or not, these look rather painful." Cavendish carefully touched the bite, which made Dakota hiss in pain. "They may be infected." A strange look came over Cavendish's face, an almost hungry look, which wasn't all that surprising. Dakota was _bleeding_ for goodness sakes, and Cavendish _was_ a vampire.

Dakota knew what the smart step at this point would be. He shouldn't let Cavendish drink his blood anymore, or else he would get vampire venom under his skin and become a full fledged werewolf. Dakota _knew_ that that would be the smart thing to do, but it just didn't feel right.

He was Cavendish's _partner,_ and as his partner it was Dakota's job to make sure that he got the blood that he needed. Dakota had been slacking on that job lately, though it hadn't been intentionally. Cavendish had been getting more and more reluctant to drink his blood lately, especially in large doses. Cavendish hadn't been having nearly as much blood as he needed, and it was starting to show.

Cavendish was even paler than he normally was. His eyes looked sunken in. He had been moving around more sluggishly than he normally did, and in general he just seemed to be more tired all the time. These were just subtle differences, but Dakota had known Cavendish for fifty years. He _noticed_ these things, and they concerned him.

Not that he could bring any of this up with Cavendish though. Every time Dakota had tried, he had just been waved off. Dakota had no idea what was going on with Cavendish lately, but he knew that he had to do something about it.

This was the first time in months that Dakota had seen Cavendish actually look tempted by his blood, and he couldn't just deny it from him. Whether Cavendish realized it or not, he was wasting away, and Dakota couldn't let that happen. Not if he could do something to prevent it.

"It probably is infected." Dakota moved his arm closer to Cavendish. "...Could you-?"

Cavendish rolled his eyes, but he lowered his head and sunk his fangs into Dakota's arm anyways. Dakota flinched at the bite, not because it hurt or he was squeamish, because he had stopped being bothered by this years ago. No, Dakota just flinched because he knew that he had just sealed his fate.

A month from then, he would be turning into a werewolf.

But Dakota had gotten Cavendish to have some blood, which, in his book, made it all worth it. Dakota didn't know what had been going on with Cavendish lately. He was pretty sure it wasn't his blood, because if it was than Cavendish would have needed more convincing to bite his arm.

Whatever the reason, Dakota was just glad that he had actually found a way to get Cavendish to drink his blood again. Vampire venom could actually sterilize and heal a wound. After all, most vampires didn't want to have their source of food bleed out on them or die because of an infection.

Dakota didn't know why Cavendish was suddenly only willing to bite him so he could heal him. It would make things difficult, but at least Dakota had an idea of what he could do for Cavendish instead of feeling completely useless. Dakota didn't know if this could be a long term situation or not, but at that moment it was the only thing he could do.

Maybe in the long run it was a bad idea to let Cavendish drink his blood now, but Dakota didn't care. Cavendish needed blood, and, as far as Dakota knew, he was the only person around whose blood was compatible with Cavendish's needs (yeah, apparently vampires were very picky about the blood that they had, and Cavendish was even pickier than most vampires were). Maybe it would get Dakota turned into a werewolf, and, yeah, that wasn't exactly good, but it was better than letting Cavendish starve.

Vampire or not, Cavendish was the best person that Dakota had ever met, and he would do anything for him...even letting himself get turned into a werewolf. Others might think that Dakota didn't have his priorities straight, but he would just shrug.

Maybe Dakota was being dumb, but it was _Cavendish._ What're ya gonna do?

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 **A/N: This is just my first chapter. The second one will be from Cavendish's point of view.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm so sorry for taking so long. I lost motivation for writing** _ **anything**_ **for a few weeks there, and especially on this story. I seriously just had to force myself to write this, (it's amazing just how much I can focus on writing while watching a thought provoking crime solving show to motivate myself).**

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Vampires, by nature, were not social creatures. It tended to happen when somebody became a predatory creature that couldn't be in direct sunlight and fed off the blood of humans. Cavendish hadn't been the best with people even _before_ he had turned, and his vampirism certainly hadn't made socializing any easier. Even so, Cavendish liked to think that after fifty years he had come to know his partner fairly well. Well enough to recognize when something was bothering Dakota...unfortunately though, not well enough to know _what_ was wrong.

Cavendish just didn't understand it, and it was absolutely infuriating. The signs were subtle, so subtle that it had taken Cavendish a whole month to realize that something was even wrong, but they were there. It worried Cavendish greatly, not only that there was something wrong with his partner, something potentially serious, but that Dakota worked so hard to hide the truth from him. Cavendish felt ashamed that Dakota had felt the need to hide what was wrong from him. They were _partners_ , after all, and if Cavendish couldn't keep Dakota healthy and safe, then he was doing something wrong.

It wasn't unusual for an individual monster to ally themselves with a human. Many monsters, vampires being just one species, had specific needs. Needs that humans could meet. Some monsters were complete brutes when it came to how they treated their human companions, but that wasn't how it should be. Human/monster relationships should be equally beneficial.

Vampires, for example, needed human blood to survive. Some vampires liked to completely drain their victims, but most prefered a more conventional approach. A vampire's venom had healing properties. All vampires were particular about the blood that they would tolerate, and if they found a human whose blood matched their tastes then it was only logical that they would want to keep the human alive and around for as long as was possible.

Vampire venom didn't just have healing properties for humans. For as long as a human was regularly being fed on by a vampire, their aging process was reduced. Humans who were partnered with a vampire, and remained with them, only aged a third as quickly as they otherwise would have. In the past fifty years, Dakota had only aged physically and mentally by thirteen. Sometimes though, Dakota behaved so childishly and stubbornly that Cavendish often wondered whether he had truly grown after all these years or if he was still the sixteen year old young man that he had been when Cavendish had first found him.

Cavendish had first met Dakota and found that his blood was compatible with his tastes by complete accident. It had been a few weeks since Cavendish had properly fed and he had been on the lookout for a new source of blood. He hadn't thought that he would actually find a partner, let alone in the disoriented, injured teenager who had literally run into him on the streets. To this day Cavendish still didn't know what Dakota had been running from, just how badly he had been hurt, and why he had been in such a state in the first place. Dakota was a fairly open book, except when it came to his past.

Whatever Dakota had left behind, it had to have been pretty bad for him to trust and stay with a creepy older mah who had all but swept him into his arms and carried him off to a more private and secure location the second he had gotten a smell of his blood. Even after Dakota had learned that Cavendish was a vampire, he had agreed to stay with him, even before he had known about the benefits.

To this day it still bothered Cavendish that someone, a teenager, a _child_ , could find living with a literal monster to be the better of two evils.

Even after all their time together, Cavendish couldn't help but wonder if Dakota stayed with him because he truly enjoyed his company and wanted to stay, or if he just had nowhere else to go at this point. If anything, as more and more time passed Cavendish became less and less sure of Dakota's reasoning. Cavendish didn't truly doubt Dakota, not really, he was just...concerned.

If Dakota didn't really want to be with Cavendish then what right did the vampire have to drink his blood every two weeks, leaving Dakota in a weakened state for a few hours? After an incident a couple of months before when Dakota had gotten seriously hurt because there had been an intruder and he had been too tired to properly defend himself, Cavendish had started to feed less and less. Cavendish knew that Dakota's injury hadn't been lasting, and with Cavendish's help it had healed within a few hours, but he just couldn't get his worries out of his head.

If Dakota only chose to be with Cavendish because it was beneficial for his survival, then how was it fair that Cavendish was constantly putting him in harm's way just because of his own desires and needs? Dakota deserved better than that.

It was around the time that Cavendish had started to take less of Dakota's blood that the younger man began to act strangely, though it took some time for to realize it. Cavendish hadn't intended to continue taking Dakota's blood, he had actually been in the process of thinking of a new source of blood, but circumstances didn't allow that.

Around the time when Cavendish had tried to keep Dakota from getting any more involved in a life that he had been forced into, Dakota had seemed to become more clumsy. Every other day or so Dakota would get a new injury, whether because he had tripped and scraped his knee, accidentally cut himself while cooking, or had been caught off guard by an intruder. None of the injuries had been serious, but it had been the best of both of their interests for Cavendish to just drink the blood and sterilize the wounds.

If such a thing had only happened two or three times, Cavendish would think that it was odd, but he would barely think twice about it. It had happened consistently over the past few weeks though. There may be a number of things that Cavendish didn't know about Dakota, but he knew that he wasn't _this_ clumsy.

Cavendish didn't know what to think. Was something wrong that was making Dakota more clumsy? Was Dakota harming himself intentionally? And, if so, why? Cavendish had been meaning to speak to Dakota about what was going on, it was just a matter of knowing the right time.

Cavendish had planned to have such a talk with Dakota during the night of the full moon. There weren't very many werewolves that lived in the area, but that didn't mean that they didn't come around during the full moon. Werewolves were wanderers, they ran, they hunted, and they attacked humans and other monsters just for the fun of it. Cavendish could hold his own in a fight against a werewolf, but he didn't have any interest in doing so. He prefered to stay in during the night of the full moon, let the werewolves have their fun. Since he wasn't planning on going out during the night of the full moon, and he had no intentions of letting Dakota out when there could be a vicious monster out.

When Cavendish woke up on the night of the full moon, he immediately felt as though something was off. The air in the room was stifling and Cavendish felt as though his nose was under attack. There was a powerful, unpleasant stench in the room that was so overpowering that he couldn't even place it. This wasn't the first time that Cavendish had woken up feeling like this, just the month before when Dakota had been attacked by that young intruder he had felt the same way, though it hadn't been nearly so overbearing.

Cavendish felt his gut twist up and he felt as though he was going to be sick, and he was sure that it wasn't just because of the stench. Something was seriously wrong, and Cavendish needed to see Dakota _now._

Cavendish hurried out of his bed and quickly made his way to the main area of the house. He was more concerned than he wanted to admit that Dakota hadn't been in bed when he had woken. Dakota liked his sleep, and he often went to bed before Cavendish did and woke up after him. It was barely even dusk though, and Dakota was already awake. Cavendish wanted to think that there had just been another intruder, except there would have been signs of a struggle and fight, and the house looked completely normal.

Completely normal, except for the fact that Dakota wasn't there.

Cavendish anxiously searched the entire house, and Dakota was nowhere to be seen. What Cavendish _was_ able to find though was a hastily written note on the refrigerator. The note was most definitely from Dakota, there was no doubt about that. What was concerning though was what the note said.

' _Hey, Cav, something came up tonight. I won't be able to be back until morning. Don't wait up for me.'_

Dakota did some foolish, hasty things, but Cavendish didn't think that he would do something like this. Dakota knew just as well as Cavendish did that it was the night of the full moon. It was dangerous to be out. What could possibly be so important that Dakota had to spend the _entire_ night out? And if Dakota _did_ actually have something important to do that absolutely had to be done that night, why couldn't he have at least let Cavendish know what was going on?

Cavendish didn't know _where_ Dakota was, but vampires didn't get through fifty years of being with somebody without forming a connection with them. Vampires couldn't necessarily find their companions by smell alone, that was much more of a werewolf thing, but more like by their aura. Cavendish could sense Dakota's energy, and he may be able to track him by following his energy signature. Cavendish had no guarantee that it would work, he had never tried it before, but it was the only thing he could think of, so he was going to at least try it.

Cavendish had a bad feeling about that night, so he would do whatever it took to find Dakota and bring him home.

Cavendish made his way outside and immediately felt as though he was going to be sick. The stifling, overpowering scent from inside was still there, but it was different, weaker. Because the stench was more subtle but still clear Cavendish was able to recognize it for what it was, and it wasn't anything good.

A sharp, clear howl pierced the night, which only confirmed what Cavendish had already known.

There was a werewolf in the city that night. And by the sound of its howl, in pain, scared, and completely untamed, it was under its first transformation. Werewolves were always at their most dangerous and feral on that first night. If the circumstances were any different, Cavendish would go back inside and not get himself involved. But he couldn't, under good consciousness, do that. Not when he knew that the new werewolf smell was more prominent in his house, and Dakota's note had been vague at best.

As much as Cavendish didn't want to think about it, he couldn't ignore the very real possibility that the new werewolf was...that Dakota…

Why would he _hide_ something like this? How...how could this have happened? No, those weren't the true questions. Dakota had likely hidden this from him because he had been scared, it didn't take a socially skilled person to realize that. As for the how, that was easy to figure out, though Cavendish didn't like what he learned.

There had been an intruder exactly a month before. Cavendish hadn't thought much of it, but he distinctly remembered there being the lingering werewolf smell. If the intruder had been an untransformed werewolf, and he had bitten Dakota, and Cavendish had _sterilized_ the wound…

He needed to find Dakota.

Cavendish transformed into a bat. He was usually much more reluctant to transform, Dakota was unbearably fond of teasing him for how _adorable_ he was as a bat. At that moment though Cavendish believed that it would be quicker and more efficient to fly in his transformed state, despite the potential humiliation.

Cavendish flew south, towards Dakota. He couldn't say for sure _why_ , but it felt right. Maybe he truly could sense Dakota's energy signature. Maybe he was following the smell. It didn't really matter _how_ he knew where to go, all that mattered was that his instincts lead him to his partner.

Cavendish flew and flew until he began to realize that the direction he was heading would eventually lead him to the woods near the outskirts of the city. If he really was following Dakota, and if he really was headed towards the woods, then Cavendish didn't know whether he should feel relieved or concerned. On the one hand, if Dakota was making his way towards the woods, it could be because even in his barbaric state he had enough sense to keep his desire to not harm anybody.

On the other hand, werewolves were creatures of absolutely animalistic instinct. If he was running towards the forest, it was for one of two possibilities. He could be running _towards_ something, he was on the hunt. Or he was running _away_ from something. Cavendish couldn't help but consider the later to be the most real possibility, but what could Dakota be running from?

Cavendish couldn't get the thought out of his head that Dakota was running from _him._

As concerning as all of these thoughts were, Cavendish couldn't let them stop him. Dakota was out there, suffering and alone. Cavendish's own fears, concerns, and insecurities didn't matter at that moment, only Dakota did.

True to Cavendish's suspicions, he found himself flying away from the city and towards the forest. He flew closer to the ground and allowed himself to transform back into his humanoid form. The werewolf smell was stronger here, and Cavendish could hear the occasional sad howls from the forest. There was no doubt that a werewolf was there.

 _Dakota_ was there.

Cavendish carefully made his way into the forest. He tread cautiously and moved slowly. Werewolves were frightening creatures, but they were always at their most violent when they themselves were scared. Dakota was actually a lot like that. He didn't get violent per se, but he _did_ get defensive. The thing about werewolves, and most other wild animals, was that they had a tendency to get violent when they got defensive.

Cavendish didn't doubt that he could handle himself in a fight against a werewolf, and he could do so without causing much damage. But the thought of fighting Dakota, especially when he wasn't in his right mind, just didn't feel right. Cavendish was ready to fight if he had to, but he was going to do his best to not let it come to that.

He had a plan. He couldn't guarantee that it would work, but he had to try.

The further he went in the forest, the less signs of the werewolf he heard. Cavendish knew that he was getting closer, but werewolves had sharper ears than vampires did. The werewolf heard that he was coming, so he was forcing himself to be quieter. He didn't want to be found.

But just as Cavendish had known to go to the forest in the first place, for one reason or another he knew where in the forest to search. He knew how to find his partner.

Cavendish walked until he found his way into a clearing, and he froze in his tracks when he found himself face to face with the werewolf. The monster's eyes were golden and almost seemed to shine in the moonlight. They looked nothing like Dakota's eyes, but that didn't matter. Cavendish could still tell that it was his partner. He couldn't say _how_ he knew, he just did.

"Dakota?" Cavendish kept his voice low and even. Even newly transformed werewolves recognized vampires as their natural enemy. "Dakota, it's just me." He cautiously reached his hand towards the werewolf, only to quickly draw it back when the creature growled and snapped at it.

"It's alright." Cavendish lifted his hands in a way that showed that he didn't mean any harm. "I'm not here to hurt you, I just thought you might enjoy some company." The werewolf didn't look like it believed him, it didn't even acknowledge that it understood him. But its growl turned to a cautious snarl, and Cavendish supposed that that was a step in the right direction...all he had to do was figure out what the next step was.

Cavendish had never been very good with animals. He could recall numerous times when Dakota had effortless calmed down an angry and vicious dog, cat, or other odd animal. Cavendish just seemed to irritate them further. Dakota always tried to tell him that when an animal was frightened that he needed to wait for _them_ to come to him. That was the part that Cavendish always had a hard time with. He just didn't have the patience to wait for some mindless animal to make up its mind about whether it wanted to trust him or not.

Cavendish supposed that this was as good a time as any to put Dakota's advice to the test.

Cavendish slowly backed away to give the werewolf some space. If he was going to get Dakota to calm down, he needed to let _him_ be the one to make first contact on his own terms. Cavendish didn't know how long he would be expected to wait, so he decided that he might as well sit and make himself more comfortable. Besides, Dakota might feel more relaxed around him if he came off as more relaxed and less intimidating. If Dakota thought he was in complete control, he may just calm down.

...Or he would attack him when he thought that he couldn't defend himself. Honestly, Cavendish didn't know what to expect from a werewolf. He hadn't actually met one before. As strong of a rivalry that werewolves and vampires had, they had done their best to avoid each other for the last hundred years. All that Cavendish knew about werewolves was what he had heard from superstitious mortals, word of mouth from other bitter vampires, and the occasional fight with an angry werewolf who hadn't been all that interested in becoming friends.

Maybe it was a little reckless and ridiculous that Cavendish chose that moment to test whether or not it was even possible to calm a turned werewolf, but if there was anything that he had learned from Dakota, it was that sometimes being reckless and ridiculous wasn't such a bad idea. It was unorthodox, most certainly, but if it worked for Dakota than why the devil couldn't it work for Cavendish every once and awhile.

Cavendish sat on the ground and kept his gaze pointedly _away_ from Dakota's eyes. He knew that dogs could feel threatened when somebody looked them in the eyes, and the last thing he wanted to do was make Dakota feel threatened. Once Dakota had relaxed a little bit, then Cavendish would meet his gaze and use some of his persuasive vampire stare magic to see if it would get Dakota to connect with him, monster to monster.

But that part couldn't happen until later.

Cavendish forced himself to stay calm and relaxed. Werewolves could sense fear, and most other emotions...or, at least, Cavendish thought that they could. Honestly, he didn't know for sure, but he thought that it was best to err on the side of caution when it came to not provoking the new werewolf.

As Cavendish sat and waited for Dakota to approach him he spoke to his partner to try to calm him. Cavendish didn't really know what he was saying, but he knew that Dakota often talked to angry animals when he tried to calm them. Something about a gentle tone influencing their thoughts.

And he was willing to try anything at that point.

Cavendish didn't know for sure what he was saying, but it seemed to work. Cavendish couldn't say for sure how long he talked to his partner for, but slowly but surely Dakota inched his way towards Cavendish until he was just a few feet away. Dakota was still tense, but not as much as he had been before. When Cavendish noticed that Dakota had stopped approaching, he decided that it was safe to try the eye trick.

Cavendish focused his magical energy and lifted his gaze to meet Dakota eye to eye. The werewolf growled at first in warning, but he didn't attack. Dakota's golden eyes glowed even brighter than before, and even though Cavendish couldn't see it he knew that his own eyes were glowing bright red.

This of eye contact was a unique trait that was shared among most all monsters, though Cavendish didn't use it often. It was an intimate kind of communication between their kind. The sole purpose of this kind of contact was to show one's true inner self. Monsters most commonly used this intimate look into their true feelings to intimidate their enemies and show them that they meant business.

That wasn't quite what Cavendish was intending though. He _did_ mean to prove his true intentions to Dakota, and those intentions weren't to intimidate him. Even though Cavendish felt uncomfortable with the level of intimacy this contact provided, it was worth it if he got to get Dakota to understand that he wasn't out to hurt him.

This contact that served to reflect one's true feelings was a two way connection. If Cavendish allowed Dakota to see what was truly reflected in his eyes, then Cavendish got to see the same in Dakota. While Cavendish was sure his eyes showed concern and dedication, among other things, he could see nothing but fear and pain in Dakota's eyes.

"It's going to be alright." Cavendish reassured Dakota. He slowly reached a hand out. He paused when Dakota flinched and growled slightly at him, but he didn't pull back. When it was clear that Dakota wasn't going to lash out at him, Cavendish began to move his hand closer still, slowly. Dakota looked frightened, like he wanted nothing more than to run away, but he held his ground. For one reason or another, Dakota was trusting Cavendish.

He just hoped that he didn't do anything to betray that trust, tonight or any other time.

Cavendish gently lay his hand on top of Dakota's head. There was another flinch and growl in response, which Cavendish had expected. Before he could draw his hand back though Dakota whimpered and leaned into the touch.

Cavendish had never expected werewolves to behave more like sad, desperate puppies...or for _Dakota_ to be like that Cavendish had never seen his partner look so vulnerable, and Dakota wasn't even in his right mind at the moment. Cavendish didn't know whether or not he actually wanted to know just what was going through Dakota's head. He just knew that he wanted to help him.

"It's alright." Cavendish repeated, because he just didn't know what else to say. He pet Dakota's head slightly, and couldn't help but allow a small smile to creep onto his face when Dakota, vicious werewolf that he was, leaned closer towards him and actually laid down next to him.

Dakota really _was_ little more than a lost puppy at that moment.

"You're going to be alright, Dakota." Cavendish stroked Dakota's fur. It was astonishing just how similar the werewolf's shaggy fur felt to Dakota's hair. Dakota let out a discontent whine as he leaned closer to Cavendish. "We're going to figure this out."

 _They had to._

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, believe it or not, that was the end of the two-shot. I know it's not an ending that clears everything up, it wasn't meant to. That's just not the kind of story that this is. I hope you guys are satisfied anyways.**


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